Hollow Eyes
by Sora no Kioku
Summary: AU. Human names used. It doesn't need to see you in order for it to get into your head and warp your will. To stand against it would be suicide. So then why are they given this mission? M for violence, profanity, and possible character death.
1. Prologue

A/N: I apologize that this has only OC characters. I assure you that these guys will probably not be seen later on in the story, thus they will remain nameless. If you wish to give them names, then go ahead. Just know that they won't be in here long.

On another note, this is my first attempt at horror, so I apologize if it doesn't meet to your standards.

* * *

Her heeled shoes clicked across the tile floors at a fast pace. Her brown hair flowed behind her, swaying left and right from the black band it hung from. Her golden eyes, framed by thin black glasses, peered ahead with an unwavering gaze. She paid no attention to the doctors rushing past her, to the nurses who quickly stepped out of her way. The only thing that mattered to her currently was the clipboard tucked between her folded arm and her breast. No... It wasn't the clipboard. It was what the clipboard held, the papers firmly locked into place. The people rushing around her, the patients awaiting to be transported away, the florescent lights that illuminated the white hall... None of that mattered. It was of no importance to her.

The only thing - or rather, the only one - that managed to capture her attention was a man who had run up to her side and held out folded piece of cloth for her. Without even looking at him, she grabbed the cloth and shoved the clipboard into his chest. "Are all the patients out of this wing?" Her voice was strong and clear. It matched the air of superiority around her.

The man gave a nod, dark brown locks flicking at the motion. He held the clipboard in his hands as he looked it over. "All the patients have been evacuated to the loading dock and are waiting for their transportation. Three helicopters have lifted off and are unloading a few patients at St. Alice hospital as we speak."

The woman's eyes narrowed and her lips curled into a sneer. Unfolding the lab coat, she swung it around and slipped it on. "That's not far enough. We don't know if we'll be able to contain this thing in such a small area. Tell the hospital to evacuate further. I want a fifty mile radius around this site," she declared. Her voice remained unwavered, and her footsteps just the same. She lifted the badge dangling around her neck, showing its information o the two doctors standing near the door she approach. The both stiffened as one nodded and quickly swiped his own card. The red light flickered to green and the bolts inside the door clicked open. The door swung open and all four rushed through.

The woman stopped, her eyes focusing on the youngest of them all. She grabbed the clipboard from him as it was handed to her. "Get yourself out of here. I want you and your family as far away from here as possible," she demanded. The young doctor nodded and hurriedly rushed away. As soon as the door was swung closed once more, she continued on her way, her high heels clicking. The two doctors followed her at the same speed.

They continued on through the short hallway. She swiped her card at another door that clicked open for her and her followers. Beyond that door was a metal stairway, spiraling down. She took no time to quickly descend these steps. It was at least a few stories of climbing down before she finally set foot on tile, a large door with only a small glass window shown at the end of the short hallway. She pushed on, opening the door just as the other two had and stepping through.

The room was large, larger than any of the other rooms located within the facility. A large balcony wrapped around the whole place, a sealed room on the other side of the balcony. Stairways could be found to the lower level, where a large dome could be seen instantly. This dome was gray in color due to the strong metal used to keep its shape, with no seen windows. The only way in or out was by a door facing south. The computers circling this dome were all connected to one another, the cords focusing towards the structure. Chatter echoed through the large room, accompanied by the pounding of feet and shuffling of papers.

One man, the head of the operation as she knew, rushed up to her side and handed her another clipboard, replacing it with the one she currently had. He motioned for her to follow as he quickly spoke, "His circumstances have changed since we gave you those papers-"

She cut him off, her gaze cold and calculating. "You gave me those two hours ago."

He gave an exasperated sigh, traveling down the stairs and leading her towards the dome. "I know that. But his activity has dramatically increased since them. His levels have risen past what they usually are," he explained. His eyes flicked between the woman and the dome as he slowed to a stop. His lips were chapped yet wet with saliva, a clear sign that he had been nervous about this for possibly the whole day. He handed the clipboard he held to a passing man, who merely nodded and continued on. "He hasn't shown this much activity ever since we brought him here. He's been lashing out at the structure for all of today."

"I know that already. The reports said that he tried clawing at it around 09:00."

"But that's not all." The woman's gaze flicked up. He had caught her attention enough to pull her away from flipping through the pages. "He's been showing even more activity. He's trying to connect with the outside world." He rushed toward the nearest monitor, the woman following quickly. He pointed to one of the wavering bars. "This here indicates his brain waves. They've been spiking up for about an hour now. The dome's been holding it back, but this here-" He cut himself off so he could tap at the bar at the other side of the screen. "This shows the strength of the dome. We've managed to cut him off every time he tried to get out, but it's weakening our systems drastically. It's gone down by 5% just this hour, and it's still increasing. We're already at 75%."

The woman's eyes widened. She nearly dropped the clipboard she held, her stance swaying. She quickly caught herself and regained her composure. "How much more time until he's out?" she demanded.

He hesitated. His eyebrows furrowed as he stared at the screen. "I don't know. It depends on his activity and if he keeps this u-"

She growled in frustration and pushed his shoulder, twirling him to face her. She grabbed onto the front of his shirt, her eyes narrowing. "_How long_?" she growled.

Sweat ran down the side of his face. Fear showed clearly through his eyes. "I-if he continues at this rate, then I estimate he'll be out by the end of tomorrow."

She pushed him back, sending him toppling over the desk behind him. She looked around with hard eyes. "I want everyone to put their best efforts into keeping this thing contained! Issue a mandatory evacuation of the city! I want everyone out of here by 20:00 tomorrow! Get a construction crew in here and put a wall around the city! No one gets in or out, understood?" she barked. She looked back down to the doctor sitting on the desk, a sticky note stuck to his shoulder. "You. Get the big guys." She turned on her heel and quickly began to walk away, her lab coat billowing behind her once again.

The man rushed to stand and scrambled to her side. "By the big guys, do you mean..."

"Yes. I want you to send in the world."


	2. 01 Temporary Home

**A/N:** Hey, guys! Sorry for the long wait for this, but here it is finally! The start of the actual story! I really hope you enjoy this one. I have quite a few plans for it already. Also, I have to state that there will be no pairings in this. There will be many hints, but there will probably be no canon pairings within the story. Feel free to slash anyone.

The ride was long. Excruciatingly long. They had been traveling for at least a full day now. The drivers had swapped places at least three times since the start of the trip, though no one was truly keeping count of this. They paid attention instead to either each other, or the scenery outside. There was talking every now and then, but every time everyone fell asleep, it was dead silent within the car. Not even music came from the stereo, only from the individual headphones a few of them wore. Even now, in the first of two vans traveling across the twisting mountain roads, three of the passengers were fast asleep and therefore silent. Well, save for the light snoring coming from the loudest of them all. The most quiet one was the only one awake at this time, his gaze focused at the large, towering trees that rushed by him, appearing from behind him and slowly vanishing from view out the rear window. He couldn't see anything beyond them, and when there was a break, it was usually a sheer drop right along the road. It seemed to matter not to the drivers, who would sometimes cross the separating line whenever a turn came. As far as the passenger could tell, nobody else was driving on this particular road, for he hadn't seen another car whiz by ever since they took the exit off the freeway and arrived at the start of the forest - and he had been watching ever since they started.

It was because of this that he knew they had traveled through quite a large variety of landscape. This was Texas, after all. It was normal for them to go through deserts of rock and sand, and then travel across fields of gold and green later on that day. But for the past hour now, he had only been greeted with the views of thick trees. Nothing else. Not even a single sign told him where he was or how long until he arrived at his destination. He thought about turning around and asking the driver, but alas, he never gained the will to do so. His voice was quiet. He didn't even know if they would hear him. And so, he sat there, with his elbow on the armrest and his jaw resting on his palm, his gaze focusing only on the passing scenery.

He was tired. Very tired. He vaguely remembered passing out in the hotel the night before, then waking up in the car once more with a blanket over him. He didn't even remember what time they got there. He could only assume it had been late at night, for he usually awoke once light hit his eyelids. He sighed lightly, his eyes finally sliding closed. Yes. He was tired... He would have to sleep soon. Perhaps he could just... fall asleep here... A light voice snapped him out of his thoughts, his eyelids peeling open to find the source. Curious eyes scanned the two sitting across from him. Still asleep. His eyes wandered to the male sitting behind the driver's seat, his chair also facing the rear window. Violet eyes met blue. Wavy blond hair framed the face decorated with light stubble.

There was a silence before the one already awake made a quiet, questioning hum. The older man let out a chuckle, his lips twisting into an amused smile. His elbow rested against the armrest, his head leaning down to meet curled fingers. "I said, are you having trouble sleeping, Matthieu?" he asked again. The French accent rang clear while his voice crackled at the sudden use. Even Alfred could tell that he had just woken up.

Matthew gave an apologetic smile. His hand fell to his lap where it lightly grasped at his opposite wrist. He looked at the Frenchman through thin glass. "Yeah. I'm sorry if I woke you up, Francis. I was trying to be quiet," he replied.

Francis gave another chuckle. His head shook side to side and his hand waved dismissively. "Non, you did not. I woke up on my own." His head turned to face forward, his arms stretching upward. He let out a groan as he stretched out and arched his back. His eyes slid tightly closed as he did this, but opened once more as he let out a sigh and let his arms fall to the armrests attached to the seats. Once again, he turned his head to the quiet male. "Is there something wrong?"

Matthew shook his head. "I've never been good with car rides," he admitted with a shy smile. Never... Back when he was younger, he knew he would become car sick very easily, usually throwing up all over the seats or out the window. Once he hit his teenage years, it had died down, but he still couldn't go through mountain roads without having his stomach clench upon him. Now, at the age of twenty, he was pretty relaxed in cars. For the most part, anyway. He still had quite a bit to go if he wanted to sleep in one. His brother, however, always fell asleep easily in car rides. The boy loved them, and was always excited when he heard the would go on a road trip. Not that it happened often, mind you.

The Frenchman gave a small nod. "I think I might understand." His eyes lowered to his bare feet, where his toes curled and strength, then repeated. He rotated his ankles once he felt the slight tingling in his toes fade away. "I kept waking up myself. Oui, I fell back asleep, but it's hard to stay that way." He gave a light sigh.

Matthew parted his lips to reply, but was instantly cut off by a bump sending him a few inches off of the seat and falling back down. If it weren't for the seatbelt, he was sure that he would've fallen flat on the ground, just as his brother had. Alarmed and still half asleep, Alfred sat up quickly and looked around with wide eyes. He let out a shout at another bump in the road, sprawling this time on his back on the floorboard of the car.

A hand reached down and grabbed his arm tightly, hoisting him back up into his seat. "You brainless idiot. Put your bloody seat belt on before you get us all killed," sneered the fourth passenger in the car as he glared harshly towards the 'brainless idiot'. Alfred quickly did as he was told and buckled up the seat belt. The Englishman focused his attention to the front of the car, his arms crossed. He ignored the smirk coming from Francis and the quiet 'are you okay' escaping from quiet lips. "What the bloody hell was that?" he snapped.

The driver glanced back towards his passengers. His partner was fast asleep in the seat next to him, leaving him the only one who could answer. "We're almost there," he informed. "We have one more mile until the turnoff from this road, and another three miles until the gate."

"Might as well call the boss..." mumbled Francis as he reached into his pocket. He pulled out the small cell phone that resided within and flipped it open. "Tell the others to go ahead and do so as well." Assuming that the driver heard him, he flipped open the phone and typed in only a few numbers. He pressed the center button. A light blue screen with the word 'connecting' and three dots flickered on. One of the three dots, the left one, was a solid color - white - while the others were outlined in white. The right dot filled in. Then finally the middle one. The screen shifted to another one, this one having three lines extending from the numbers 1, 2, and 3. They connected at the top, all pointing to a question mark that turned in place.

A click and the question mark instantly turned into the symbol resembling a landline. Before Francis could mutter even a single word, the device was snatched out of his hand by Arthur, who set it down on his lap, his hand cradling it. A female voice came from the other end. "Hello, boys. I assume you made it just fine?"

Arthur gave a nod. "Yes, we're all fine. We're close to the city," he reported. He made sure to speak loud enough for the microphone to pick it up.

Without warning, the device was then snatched by Alfred, who proceeded to complain, "Dude, the ride was so not cool! Why do we have to go in these things, huh? Why can't we just take a helicopter or something? Do you know how much my neck hurts now?"

The Brit scoffed and rolled his eyes. Damn boy... Ever since the two met each other, the American had been nothing but trouble. The boy was cute at first. Always happy and cheerful, close as could be to the Brit. But now, he was annoying and loud. The thick-browed male reached over and stole the device from the American. "Oh, shut it. We're talking to the boss, not your mother," he scolded with a glare. He focused his attention back to the phone.

"I will ignore that comment, Agent America." There was snickering from the line. They could recognize it as some of the others from the other van. "I had you call me so you know what you're up against. I would have provided you with more information, but I sent you out as soon as I got the report and wasn't able to meet you in person. If you feel under your seats, you'll find a manila envelope with the information we have on your newest mission."

The four passengers did as they were told and reached under their seats. Sure enough, there were the envelopes, which were then placed on each of their laps and opened. Arthur furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at the short description, his eyes quickly scanning over it.

"As you can see, we don't have much information on what you're up against, but we do have a few things that will help you in your mission. This is all we have found out about this."

"I have a question."

"Yes? Go on, Agent Japan."

"Is our objective to kill it or capture it?"

Francis skimmed over the objective, his eyebrow raising. True, it didn't say which one... He carefully looked over the papers given to him. The first page consisted of the general details of the area and the mission itself; the second page was a list of known physical details about the target itself.

_**Mission Objective**_

_Keep Specimen 107 from escaping at all costs. Use any force necessary. Watch out for any unusual activity from other agents and anyone inside._

_**Target Location**_

_Unknown. Last seen near Meyer Elementary School._

_**Target Notes**_

_Fast and strong. Use discretion if attempting to face the target head on._

_Telepathic communication._

_Other abilities unknown._

_**Mansion Location**_

_143 N. Smith Ave._

_**City Size**_

_xx sq. km._

. . .

The woman's voice cut in once more, "I don't care what you do. If you need to eliminate the target, then so be it. We will provide you with supplies at the gate and more can be found in the mansion. Tranquilizers will be given to you upon arrival to the city."

"What does it look like? There's no picture."

"You'll know when you see it."

Arthur let out a sigh through his nose. So they were going on a wild goose chase... If they didn't know what it looked like, how were they expected to even find it?

"Also, there is one more thing you need to know."

Alfred lifted his head from his paper. He looked over towards the phone in curiosity. The sleepiness had long vanished from his eyes.

"You will not be able to contact us once you are inside. All links to the outside world have been cut for security measures. According to anyone beyond the gate, this place is nonexistent. Your cellphones can only reach each other's. The internet and other links to the outside world will be unreachable."

Matthew hesitated. Was this really a good idea, then...? He glanced towards Francis. The look the Frenchman gave him told him that it shouldn't be questioned. They were soldiers. They weren't normal people under any circumstance, nor could they be, even if they were to retire or quit their job. They would forever be a part of the military and a part of the government. They were their property now. They had no right to question any mission given to them. The Canadian's eyes retreated back to the phone. "We understand," he spoke quietly. It was what everyone wanted to say, but no one had the guts to do so. Even Matthew hoped that he had gone unheard, but that seemed to not be the case.

"Very good. You should be close to the gate now. Good luck, agents. I will await for your reports."

There was a click, and then silence. The screen returned to the background. Arthur let a sigh through his nose once more and handed the device back to its owner, who placed it back into his pocket. All of them turned their views out the window without a single word uttered. The trees receded a few yards from the road, allowing for a view of the sky and the bowl of mountain surrounding the area the city resided. Any sights of the city, however, was blocked by a large, dark gray wall that towered high into the sky. It was made with metal, with cement revealing itself through various patches to show it was incomplete. The thickness and what kind of metal was anyone's guess.

The car slowed as the large structure blocked out the sun, casting them all in shadow. It slowed until it curved off the pavement and into the dirt. It stopped there, the other van stopping right beside it. From those two vans, eight individuals stepped out, most of them carrying packs either on the backs or in their hands. They walked around the vans and joined behind them. They merely just nodded their hellos before they continued on towards the gate.

┝━ʜᴏʟʟᴏHOLLOW EYES

It wasn't as big as they suspected. They supposed that it was considered a 'mansion' compared to the rest of the houses there, but it certainly wasn't as big as the ones usually shown on television. It was surrounded by a red brick fence with a large, iron gate. A cobblestone pathway lead up towards the front of the place, only separating in the middle to circle around a white fountain before joining again. The entryway was nice, with stairs lining both sides to reach the balcony that circled three fourths of the spacious room. There were two 'wings', as far as he could tell. There was no door in front of him. Just a large painting of the house's previous owners. The only doors were located underneath the stairs, to the left and right of the entryway. He knew not where they led, but he knew that the whole second floor was composed of bedrooms. Funny. It seemed bigger on the outside. Perhaps there was an attic? He would have to investigate later. There was no way he would be able to now.

As soon as they stepped inside, the bags were dropped and most began exploring. Feliciano had tugged both Ludwig and a cursing Lovino through the door to the left while Matthew and Francis had travelled through the right door. Alfred, after a failed attempt to get Arthur to follow him, soon chased after his brother. The Brit's eyes carefully surveyed the place. There was something... Odd... His lips formed a thin line. But what? He furrowed his eyebrows. There was nothing out of the ordinary, as far as he could tell. The statues were just statues. There were no suits of armor on display. He couldn't see any hidden cameras. Everything was untouched. No... Everything was set up for them. Curious... Very curious... The voice beside him caused him to jump, his feet stumbling to the right.

"Is there something wrong, Kirkland-san?" Unreadable brown eyes stared directly towards the one in question. His lips were thin, adding to the uncertainty of which emotion he felt. The question itself, however, held curiosity and possibly even worry.

Arthur let out a small sigh and went back to surveying his surroundings. "Perhaps," he spoke. His hand raised to rub at the back of his neck. "Something seems off, don't you agree?"

The Japanese man turned his attention to the painting before them. He seemed to contemplate his answer for a moment before he finally gave a nod. He could sense it, too. "Hai. It is very strong," he answered quietly. He then turned back to Arthur and gave a gentle smile. "Let's not worry about it. I'm sure it is nothing."

Arthur frowned. Not worry about it? He gave a shake of his head. Impossible. Still, he gave a small smile and forced his expression to relax, his hand falling to his side. "Yeah."

"Shall we go see what Feliciano-kun is doing?"

"You go on ahead. I want to put up some barriers around this place."

Kiku gave a small nod. He said nothing more as he continued on towards the right door, the Brit kneeling down beside his bag and shuffling through it. The last glimpse they got of each other was just when Arthur pulled out a small, leather pouch with an intricate design burned into the front of it. Kiku let the door close around him and glanced around the room. A sitting room, he assumed. Possibly an area to greet guests. Most of the room was white with accents of black. A glass coffee table resided in the middle, with two large white couches with black wood designs on the outside of the armrests on both sides of it. Glass end tables flanked these couches, one of them holding a small, leafy green plant. An orchid stood proudly on the coffee table.

He hummed lightly. Yes. This was most definitely a place to entertain guests. Not friends, guests. He turned his attention away and continued on through the white door lined in a black frame. This room was much larger, he instantly noticed. It consisted of two different rooms, separated by a half-wall. The right of the room was an entertainment room and stairs on the opposite wall, with a large flat screen TV mounted on the wall and movie racks lining the walls. Many different electronics were on the table below, most of them video game consoles. Only one of them was a 5-disc CD changer. This mansion certainly belonged to a rich family. Possibly one with children to entertain.

His gaze shifted to the left, where he could see Francis sitting in a small, cushioned chair. He seemed quite comfortable, with one leg crossed over the other and a book in his lap. A gentle smile played along his lips. Kiku paid no attention to what the Frenchman was reading and instead focused to what Matthew was doing. The boy was looking along the shelves of books that lined the walls, his expression contemplative. Alfred sat right next to him, with his legs crossed. In his lap was a large book - one Kiku could tell was a book about trains and planes of war, judging by the pictures he could see from this distance. The American seemed extremely interested in this book, for his eyes were glued to it. Kiku chuckled lightly and gave a small smile. At least they seemed to be enjoying themselves.

"Kiku! There you are!"

He turned at the voice that came behind him. He didn't even need to look to know who it was. He had known the other for years. They were what he considered friends. He smiled politely as he gazed towards the two Italians and their German accomplice. "Konnichiwa, Feliciano-kun, Lovino-san, Ludwig-san," he greeted with a slight bow of his head. He glanced towards the darkening window. "Or maybe konbanwa is more appropriate."

Ludwig gave a small nod of his head. "Guten abend." He motioned to the smiling Italian next to him. Always so happy and cheerful... There was hardly a day that the other wasn't smiling. "We found the kitchen and dining room, so Vargas wanted to make us all dinner."

"Is that so? What did you want to make?"

Feliciano gave Kiku his signature grin. "I was going to ask you guys! Lovino and I want pasta - and we already started making it - but Luddy told me I have to talk to you first," he explained.

The nickname nearly threw Kiku off. It wasn't unusual for the Italian to give others nicknames, but he hadn't heard that one before. Was it new...? He glanced to the German. He actually seemed pretty irritated at it, which was further proven by the yelling that soon ensued. Feliciano merely laughed it off and corrected his purposeful slip. Kiku gave a small smile. "I think pasta would be great for dinner. I haven't had that in a while," he commented. The grin that Feliciano gave was equivalent to a million suns.

The Italian grabbed his brother by the hand and whirled around, opening the door. "Then I'll go make some! I'll tell you when dinner is ready." And with that, he started towards where he had come from, his brother in tow.

Ludwig sighed, his hand reaching up to run through his hair. How he had put up with the guy for so many years, he was uncertain. But, he supposed, he wasn't that bad. He looked back towards Kiku, his arms crossing. "I tried looking for Kirkland to see what he would like, but I couldn't find him. Do you know where he went?"

"He went out to put up some barriers around the house."

"The whole magic thing again?"

"Hai. It's what they gave him."

"Ja, I know. But I don't know if that will work. I'll see if there's any way we can hook up some machine guns to the walls. I noticed there are cameras outside. I don't know where the control room is, but I can probably hook them all up to the guns to help."

Kiku smiled. "You don't have to worry about that yet, Ludwig-san. We just got here. Please relax a bit. Kirkland-san's work should be enough. At least for tonight."

Ludwig gave a sigh. He couldn't exactly believe the words, but he couldn't argue with them, either. "Ja, I guess... Anyway, you should come see what I found in the kitchen." He turned and opened the door, allowing for the Japanese man to go through. He led him along in silence, through the sitting room and through the entryway. When he opened the door, they were greeted with the sight of two large tables with dining chairs pushed underneath. So this would be where they ate. It was quite nice, at least. Large windows were situated on both sides, with curtains hanging in front of them. A beautiful crystal chandelier hung in the middle of the room. They continued on through an archway big enough to fit two people through at once. The kitchen was the right, the breakfast nook to the left. The table could only sit four people (possibly eight if they brought in more chairs), but it didn't look like it was made to be used constantly, only there for decoration. On top of the table, however, was exactly what Ludwig had been talking about.

A small wooden box sat in the middle of the table. It only seemed large enough to hold possibly a few envelopes, nothing like the supplies the boss had been talking about. Ludwig walked over to it and picked it up, tossing it in his hands. A small tapping came from inside as he did so, like metal hitting against wood. "Something's inside. But we can't figure out how to open it," he admitted. He tossed the box in Kiku's direction, who caught it and began to evaluate it.

He looked over the box carefully. There were no designs. It was just a wooden box. He shook it. There was definitely something inside. He looked to Ludwig. "Should we try burning it?" he suggested. That would surely get the thing out.

Ludwig shook his head. "Nein. We don't know if the thing inside it would be okay to burn. We don't know if it's flammable. And what if it's something electronic?" he pointed out.

Kiku frowned lightly, though it went unnoticed to the German. He turned it over in his hand. Maybe something else would work. "Do you have a knife?"

"A knife? Well, ja, but..."

"Can I have it?" A small pocket knife was placed in Kiku's hand. It was warm, showing that it was indeed kept right where the name implied; in the pocket. He flipped it open and carefully wedged the blade within the only crack he could see. As far as he could tell, it lined the whole box. He carefully pushed down. A small _crack _resounded and he stopped. He pulled the blade out, handing it back to its owner with a quiet murmur of thanks. Grabbing the top of the box, he lifted it. It slid off. He sighed lightly and set the top half of it down and removed the box's contents. A single key.

"Dinner's ready~!" came a sing-song voice. Well, he had said that he already started making it...

"Dinner? I didn't know supper was being cooked so soon."

Kiku glanced to the door to see Arthur walk in, small patches of clothes covered in a white dust. He gave a nod of his head, a small smile coming to his lips. "Hai. Feliciano-kun has decided to make us all dinner tonight."

"And what is for supper?"

"Pasta!" Feliciano replied as he began to spoon out some of the spaghetti onto a plate for him and his brother. He handed the plate to his brother before he instantly went to get his own. "I don't know how much you want, so just grab some for yourself, okay?"

Arthur gave a nod. A relaxed smile came to his lips. "Alright. Thank you, Feliciano."

The Italian gave a grin. "You're welcome!" he replied cheerfully.

Kiku looked down to the key. Maybe it was best if they all figured out what this was for, not just him. He pocketed it and went to go tell the others that it was time to eat.

┝━ʜᴏʟʟᴏᴡ┝━ʜᴏʟʟᴏHOLLOW EYES

Alfred hummed as he studied the books on the shelf. It was around here somewhere... Aha! With a wide grin, he grabbed out the book and set it aside. He then grabbed out the books nearby it, setting them next to that same book as well. "I saw it earlier, but I couldn't tell what it was. Think this might be it?" he spoke as he glanced over his shoulder. He stepped out of the way for Kiku, who stepped forward and examined the area. Sure enough, just as Alfred had said earlier, there was a small hole in the back of the bookshelf. Whether this was a keyhole or not, he was unsure.

Kiku drew the key from his pocket. There was only one way to tell, and that was to test it. He slid the key into the hole. A small, metallic click came to his ear, as though metal had hit metal. He furrowed his eyebrows. Possibly this _was_ it... He turned the key. Another click - this one louder - resounded. There were a few more clicks and then another loud _clunk_ before silence came to the room. He glanced back to the others, removing the key from the hole in the bookcase. So there was a keyhole there. Now the only problem was trying to figure out where the door was.

The American carefully looked around, just as the others did. Nothing was out of place, as far as they could tell... Everything seemed just as it did before. Alfred clicked his tongue. Maybe in a different room? He took a few steps away from the bookcase, his head tilting. There was nothing out of the ordinary. Everything seemed as though it was stationary. His eyes swept to Kiku. Wait. Go back. He instantly glanced to the side. Then he grinned. There it was! "Hey look, over here!" He quickly stepped over to the area he mentioned. It looked like just a solid wall, but only at first glance. If one were to look closely, they would see a small button the same color of the wall. Alfred took no hesitation to press it.

Another click came to their ears. Then a portion of the wall, big enough for one person to go through, swung outward until a small crack could be seen between is opening and the wall itself. Alfred slid his fingers through and pulled it the rest of the way open. The inside was dark, even with the light flooding in. The only thing they could see clearly was a narrow stairway with walls on both sides.

"Out of the way."

Alfred glanced back to see the Brit push his way through the males crowding the door. He stepped out of the way for him. Arthur merely gave a glance to his old companion before he continued on. He murmured a single word and a small ball of light grew before him. He said not what it was, and just continued down the steps, the floating ball of light leading the way. The others followed behind. The farther they descended, the darker it became. The stairway twisted after a few steps, spiraling down. The light coming through the doorway soon vanished, leaving them with only the light Arthur had summoned. The wooden stairs turned to stone, the walls gradually changing to solid dirt. Only the sounds of tapping shoes could be heard. The ball stopped at the end of the dark tunnel. Its light illuminated what stood in their way; a large iron door. It had no designs, only small, rounded studs dotting its surface. It was partially rusted near three of the corners. The handle had only a slot for a key.

Arthur hummed as he looked at it. He glanced over his shoulder as a way to reassure himself of his thoughts. With no words spoken, he reached forward and grasped the horizontal handle. A twist and the door clicked open. Light from the ball flooded in through the crack. Waving his hand, the light floated forward. He mumbled a single word. The light brightened as everyone filed into the room. However, it dimmed and faded away as soon as lights flickered on. The walls - lined completely by computers with black screens - were all metal. Only one door could be seen on the opposite end, a door painted in a dark color. The room itself was only just large enough to fit all of them, unless they were to sit in the dusty chairs.

"What is this place?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. But I think we should wait until tomorrow to investigate. We should head in for the night," he suggested. The others agreed and left the room. Matthew lingered for only a moment more, his eyebrows furrowing as he looked around the room. Just what was this place...? Why were they here? What were they fighting against? So many questions that needed answering, so many things they would all have to learn on their own. And for reasons unknown, he had a strong feeling that they should have never accepted this mission.


	3. 02 Calm Before the Storm

The air was thick. With each step he took, it became harder and harder to breathe. Sweat ran down the side of his face, fading to nothing before it reached his jawline. His hair clung to the curves of his cheeks. All was silent around him, save for the light tapping of his boots against the wooden floor. The only light was at the end of the hallway. It flooded out from underneath a single door to the left. The more he approached it, the more he could see the small sliver of light coming from the side of the door. It wasn't even enough to bathe his eyeball in light, let alone the hallway. He continued, his hand lightly dragging across the opposite wall, his feet taking him closer and closer. He only stopped his near-silent trek as soon as he came to the door, slightly ajar. The small sliver of light fell upon his shirt. He could hear a soft _drip, drip, drip _coming from inside. It sounded as though there was a small hole in the roof, allowing for rain to seep through and fall to the wooden floorboards of the room beyond the door. But that wasn't the case. The whole time he had been here, there hadn't been even a drop of rain. The clouds had threatened, but they would continue on their way, only raining in the distance. The dropping had to be something else, something besides rain getting inside.

Without a single sound, he reached forward. Shaking fingertips pressed against the cool painted wood of the door. He pushed. The door swung open with ease, as though he had put much more force into it than he had anticipated. Light flooded the hallway and caused him to shield his eyes. It did not take long, however, for his pupils to adjust to the new source of light. He wished they hadn't. Eyelids pulled back at the sight displayed before him. Crimson splattered the off-white walls, stained the carpet and wood of the floor. It decorated the white flowers knocked over on the nightstand, the water from the pot seeping out and dripping from the table. The source of the crimson colour came from the two men sprawled out on the floor. One laid on his side, his hand outstretched towards the other, clearly his brother. The other arm was bloodied with large tears ripping across the sleeves covering it. A pool of deep red spread from his chest and stomach area, now only slowly growing larger; an indication that he had already passed. His hair was matted in places with that same color. Amber eyes were dulled, his lips parted as if he were trying to speak.

The other one laid flat on his stomach to the left of his brother, far from the outstretched hand. Blood caked his hair and plastered the curl to the floor. His eyes, focused on the one near him, were half-closed and void of life. Large gashes raked down his back, dying his clothes in bright red. It was clear that he had been reaching for the other just as his life had been slipping away, for the streaks across the wood followed the flow of his arm, his fingers lightly outstretched. Dried tears stained his cheeks and fading red lines were enough to prove that his eyebrows had been drawn upward. Shakily, the blond stumbled in, his eyes flicking back and forth between the two. He could only travel a few unsteady footsteps before his feet refused to move any more, his knees giving out on him. He collapsed to a sitting position, his eyes wide with horror and his arms limp at his sides. He clapped a hand over his mouth, his stomach lurching. "Who could... do such a thing...?" he murmured through the gaps of his fingers.

"Romano, help me... It hurts, Romano..."

He jumped at the voice. It was familiar to him, a voice he had heard for a good portion of his life. He pushed himself to stand and whirled around to face the speaker. In the corner of the room, on the same wall as the door, was another. The man faced the wall, his body in a curled-up position. Specs of red dotted his blond hair. It bounced as the head tilted to the side.

"That's what he kept saying... He warned them. But they didn't listen... Those idiots... They didn't listen..." The man stood. His body swayed. The clothes covering him were worn and covered in patches of dirt. Holes had been torn into the fabric. After a moment of silence, the man turned around. Hollow eyes bore right into the one standing in the middle of the room. A slight smile alighted his lips, his head cocked to the side. Blood splattered his clothes, smearing near his chest and on portions of his sleeves. It was clear that the blood was not his own. The smile grew. The eyes remained emotionless. "Now it's your turn. You didn't listen, either, did you? Shame... No one ever listens..." A hand rose. It was covered in blood, some of it dripping off to the carpet. He held a gun tightly in his grasp, the finger on the trigger. "Do you know why we are here? I will tell you..." No matter how hard he tried, the new arrival couldn't move. It was as though his feet were glued to the ground, his limbs bound by heavy chains. The lips of the speaker moved. But there were no words to hear. All sounds around him had vanished. The lips stopped moving and the smile grew wider, into an emotionless grin.

_BANG!_

"C'mon, wake up! Wake up, all of ya!"

The shout came from outside the bedroom door, sharply pulling him from his more-than-pleasant dream. He let out a heavy sigh and rolled onto his side, muttering curses one right after the other. He was not a morning person. He would much rather stay up late, and wake up late. Not only that, but he had been travelling for the past two days. He was supposed to be resting today in order to build up his strength. But apparently, he did not have that choice. He could still hear the continued shouts of the loudmouth, interrupted by loud bangs. He could only assume that the obnoxious male had found something in which he could bang on the doors with in order to wake up everyone else. It was effective, as it so clearly demonstrated with him, but it was annoying. Definitely not the best way to wake up the others, in his opinion. The yelling and crashing, which had been fading into the background, were once again coming closer. He was coming back down the hallway. He rolled his eyes and slapped the nightstand. It took a few tries, but finally, his fingers wrapped around the plastic device. He instantly drew it towards himself and pressed the side button. The screen lit up, flooding light into his eyes. He gave a grunt and squinted at this, his lips curling up into a snarl. 7:37 AM. Not too early, but not late enough. He would have preferred being awoken around nine or ten, at the very earliest.

Still, the shouts grew louder. He could hear the bangs through the walls themselves, not just through the door. With great reluctance, the Frenchman slipped out of bed, his feet pressing against the floorboards. The sound of a door opening reached his ears, followed by a voice directly addressing the one at fault for making everyone wake up. He plodded towards the door and opened it, peering out into the bright hallway - just in time to see the older Vargas brother snatch away what looked like a wooden walking stick and break it right in half before whapping Alfred right on the head with it, all while letting out a string of English and Italian curses. Francis couldn't help but to let out a small chuckle as he closed the door behind him and casually walked up to the two. Before Lovino could get another hit on the laughing American, he reached forward and took the halves of the broken wood. "Lovino," his French accent hung heavily on his words, "This is not the best time to be fighting with comrades. We have a mission we must complete together, _ne c'est pas_?"

At first, the corners of Lovino's lips turned upwards in an angry sneer, his eyebrows furrowing together. But upon hearing the last phrase, his eyes widened and his jaw dropped. He knew exactly who this was. To Francis's amusement, the Italian let out a terrified yell and fled from his sight. The Frenchman turned his attention back to Alfred, who merely laughed.

"Thanks, man, but you didn't need to do that. I could've handled him."

Francis gave a chuckle, a mischievous glint in his eye. "I did not do that for your benefit, Alfred," he spoke calmly. The other gave a confused and questioning look, but it was soon turned into surprise when Francis struck the American in the back of his knees and delivered a blow to his head. (Though mind you, it was not enough to knock out the American; it took much more than that.) Satisfied, he gave a smile and continued down the hallway, towards the stairs, leaving Alfred to rub the top of his head.

"Hey, what was that for?" he complained loudly, his voice echoing to the grand hall.

Francis let out another chuckle, casting a glance over his shoulder as he paused by the staircase. The other agents were beginning to file out of their rooms, groggy and irritated, but he paid no mind to them. "That was for waking me up in the middle of a wonderful dream. I was just about to have some 'fun' with a lovely lady, and you had interrupted it," he spoke. He gave a chuckle at the light blush that formed on Alfred's cheeks. His eyes narrowed and his smirk widened. "If you want, I can give you the juicy details la-" He was cut off as soon as he felt a slap to the back of his head. He gave a huff and lightly rubbed at it, his eyes wandering to the person who had committed such a thing. To his amusement, he found the Brit standing beside him.

He glared up at him in his normal way before he gave a heavy sigh and looked off, passing by the Frenchman and continuing down the stairs. "It's too early to be telling of your wet dreams, France," he scolded, his hand trailing down the railing with each step he took.

Francis gave a chuckle and followed the Brit down the stairs, his hand still clasped around the broken stick. He could hear the murmurs of everyone else mumbling their 'good morning's, as well as a few well-earned scoldings towards Alfred, but paid no particular attention to them. "Even after all these years, you still refuse to even call me by name?"

"If by doing so you would assume that we were friends, then yes, I will refuse to do so. I would rather die than to call you by your name."

Francis gave a huff at the quick response, then feigned distress. "How cruel! We have known each other ever since you were born, yet you still won't call me by name. You are a very cruel person, Arthur," he spoke in mock sadness. He forced back a smirk at the sight of the Brit casting a glare over his shoulder.

"Do not call me Arthur. I have not given you permission to use that name."

The Frenchman folded his free arm before his stomach and gave a short bow. "_Oui, votre majesté_," he teased.

Arthur glared harshly at the one following him, paying no mind to the others travelling down the stairs. He opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it and closed it once more. He gave a huff and turned his gaze away. Instead, he spat out, "Think what you wish, frog, but I'll have you know that things will never change between us." He waited not for a reply from Francis. Without casting a single glance over his shoulder, he continued on, following the crowd towards the dining room.

Francis stood there for a moment, his lips forming a thin line as he watched the back of the Brit's green pajamas. A chuckle escaped from his throat and he ran a hand through his blond locks. "They already have, Arthur. They already have..." The mumble left his lips without his meaning to. Upon realizing he had spoken out loud, a surprised expression formed and he tilted his head. However, he was quick to shake it off and picked up his pace once again. It wasn't long before, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted another figure; another blond. Curious, he turned his head and looked towards the quiet male. He stood there with a faraway look in his violet eyes, his eyebrows drawn up in worry and confusion. His lips were slightly parted and his arms were tightly wrapped around a stuffed polar bear; no doubt a temporary replacement for his animal companion. The boy wasn't even wearing his glasses, which was rather odd. He was never found without his glasses. Francis often wondered if he could even see without them. _"Are you alright, Matthieu?"_ he spoke in French. His voice was soft and low, but Matthew still jumped upon hearing it.

The eyes quickly turned to the Frenchman and a shy smile curled onto his lips. He loosened the grasp on the teddy bear and gave a slow nod. _"I'm fine," _he responded in the same language. _"I had a bad dream last night."_

_"A bad dream?"_ Francis raised his eyebrow. Matthew wasn't known to have nightmares. Or at least, as far as he knew.

Matthew shook his head and gave a reassuring smile. _"It's nothing. I don't remember it too well."_

Francis's facial features relaxed into a small smile. He set down the broken wood against the wall, allowing for it to lean there. _"I see. Then it's just the feeling it left you with, yes?"_

The Canadian gave another nod. _"Yes. I'm sorry for bothering you with it so early in the morning, Francis."_

_"You aren't bothering me, Matthieu. Come, let's go to breakfast now."_ The Frenchman took a step forward, but stopped as soon as he heard the shout for him to wait. With a raised eyebrow, he looked over towards the younger nation. "Is there something wrong, Matthieu?" he questioned, switching his speech to English once more.

Matthew smiled lightly as he stepped closer to Francis. One arm retreated from the bear and snaked around Francis's waist, giving him a tight hug. "_Merci_, Francis," he spoke, his voice soft as always. "For at least listening to me. If I knew what I dreamed about, I would tell you, but I only remember the feeling."

A smile alighted Francis's features as he wrapped his arms around the small male. "It's not a problem. I was your guide when you were a child, _souviens-tu_?"

Matthew nodded as he pulled away from the hug. "Yes, I remember. Before Arthur was told to take over."

Francis sighed as he rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes travelling to the ceiling. "_Oui_... I remember that... He was rather forceful about it," he murmured. He gave a small smile and motioned to the dining room. "Now come. The others are waiting for us." Once again, a nod was given and the two continued on their way to the dining room. Their presence hadn't been acknowledged in the least upon their arrival. The other agents talked excitedly around the table full of pancakes, waffles, sausages, biscuits, jelly, and an assortment of other breakfast foods. Arthur was currently scolding Alfred about this morning's rude awakening, Feliciano was excitedly talking to an annoyed Lovino but was interrupted by Ludwig with a 'quiet down, Vargas', and Kiku calmly spoke to Ludwig until the German had decided to interrupt Feliciano's loud babble. Francis took his seat next to Matthew, who had situated himself next to his brother.

Not minding the lack of hellos, he went right to serving himself breakfast, just as the Canadian beside him had. He drew the plate of waffles closer to him and began pulling a few of them onto the plate directly before him. Once done with that, he set it down and scooped out a few of the eggs onto the smaller plate. Then something caught his attention; movement to his right. Curious, he turned his gaze towards the source. Much to his amusement, he was greeted with the sight of Matthew drenching his pancakes in maple syrup. He gave a chuckle and reached for the butter. "Would you like some pancakes with that syrup, Matthieu?" he teased. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the startled expression and the light blush that grew on the Canadian's face.

The younger of the two quickly looked back down to his plate and set the syrup aside, now half empty. Careful not to knock the bear in his lap into the syrupy goodness, he reached for his fork. "I like maple syrup," he commented, his voice nearly drowned out by those around him. The Frenchman responded with another chuckle.

HOLLOW EYES

The sounds of chatter filled the room, making it nearly deafening. Some talked excitedly of past experiences, boasting here and there, and very rarely complementing each other on a job well done. Others spoke of the details left with their current mission, of the things that could be left out. Only one was left silent and listening in to all of the gossip fluttering around him. It was a rather normal day, he concluded. This was how it always happened when all of them were around each other. Granted, not everyone was here; they were still missing a few of the agents. But even if there were more, this would be how it would happen.

Finally, one man stood up. His black hair made him stick out from the others, whom all sported rather light hair - save for the Vargas brothers. He cleared his throat and motioned his hands to quiet everyone down. "Everyone, please. We must discuss our plans for today," he spoke. The sounds continued. Only two pairs of eyes shifted towards him. The Japanese man seemed unphased by this and merely just rose his voice. "Please, quiet down! We must discuss-" He was cut off as soon as the American began laughing his usual loud, obnoxious laugh. Kiku stood in silence, his lips forming a thin line. Brown eyes travelled to the German.

With a frown, Ludwig now knew it was his turn to try. He never liked this part, but he always had the loudest voice. He stood from his chair and shouted, "Everyone, shut up!" His German accent hung thick in his words, his voice rumbling as it passed his lips. Instantly, the sounds quieted. All pairs of eyes, some holding a startled gaze, turned towards him within an instant. Satisfied by this, the blond continued, "We have an important mission on our hands. We will not be sitting around all morning, talking! We do not have the time for that! Agent Japan has a speech he would like to give and I will not allow any one of you interrupt him." His eyes travelled across each face. "If you wish to speak, then raise your hand and wait for Agent Japan to address you directly. Do _not_ speak out of turn or you will be chopped up and fed to my dogs as a snack, not even a second after this mission is completed. Are we clear?" There were nods from each man in the room. "_Ser gut._" He sat down and motioned his hand towards Kiku. "Please continue, Agent Japan."

Kiku gave a nod of thanks and remained standing right where he was. All eyes focused on him. He scanned the crowd. Some seemed to genuinely be interested in what he had to say. Others - such as Alfred, who currently had his elbow on the table and rested his head in his hand with an expression of boredom - didn't seem to care one way or the other. Now that the room was quiet, he began to speak. "As you know, we all have the same mission. We have not come across something like this in many years. Usually a team of two is sent in a mission, but from my understanding, all of us are after the same goal. We have not yet come across any further instructions." The room remained silent, but there were nods of understanding. "All we know is to eliminate a threat somewhere in the city. Where it is, what it looks like, or what it does, we do not know. Therefore, I suggest we each split into teams and search the area on foot. As you can tell, this is quite large for a town. This morning, I ran a few errands."

He reached underneath the table and pulled out a briefcase. Moving the empty plates aside, he set it down on the table and opened it up. Inside, there were a few folders, no doubt about the current mission. He took the top one off the pile and set it down beside the briefcase, closing it up again and placing it on the floor. As he passed out the folded papers inside, he spoke, "To help with getting to know the city better, I have collected a few maps from around the area. These maps, I'm assuming, are maps of the city. I have divided the city into five sections as well, labeling each one accordingly." He closed the folder. "We cannot cover all of this ground today, so three teams of two or three should suffice. I put together a list of all of our numbers, wrote down everyone's strengths and weaknesses, and formed the teams that would serve the most useful for this. Agent Canada, you will be teamed with Agents Italy and Romano. They work well as a team and will serve well to aid you with your strengths. With their speed and your ability to slip past unnoticed, you will be able to cover the most ground. Therefore, you are assigned to the largest section, Section C, in the southwest corner of the map. This covers the pools, gymnasium, and library.

"Agent France, you will be teamed with Agent America. I apologize in advance that you have to be teamed with him, but I believe that his strength and endurance will greatly aid you in Section D, in the southeast. I'm assuming that there will be many closed off areas that will be otherwise inaccessible unless you take either Agent Canada or Agent America, and the Italy brothers need Agent Canada for their section. Section D has both the indoor and outdoor shopping centres and malls, so I believe this will not be a wasted trip. The high school is also there, though I have found a paper that says not to bother with it unless any windows or doors are broken in. If you find either of those, then report back here. No one will be allowed to investigate any of the schools without a larger team due to safety concerns.

"That leaves only Agent England and Agent Germany. I would like for you two team up. I believe that with your knowledge of magic, Agent England, and your knowledge of weaponry and strategies, Agent Germany, you will be a great combination for Section A, located in the northwest of the map. This includes the laboratory, dog park, and elementary school. Again, stay away from the school. We will investigate all of the schools together on a later date, after we have clear everywhere else.

"Before you ask what we are looking for, I will tell you. We are looking for any places where our target has been. This means anything destroyed, any droppings found, or any 'nests' that have been built - or anything similar to a nest. If you find these things, report your findings through the radio each of you will be handed upon exiting the mansion. I will be staying here and listening to all of the transmissions at once. I will not be sending any messages through unless directly asked to."

He looked to each face, whether it be staring at the map, focusing on him, or gazing at the person they were to travel with. There were no arguments, surprisingly. He had expected there to be, especially with these particular agents. He had already prepared himself for at least Francis and Alfred to complain, but surprisingly, not a single word left their mouths. Satisfied by this, he closed the folder before him and pulled up his briefcase once more. "I would suggest leaving as soon as you are ready. Each one of you has a lot of ground to cover," he advised as he pushed open the briefcase and slid the now-empty folder inside. The case then once again disappeared underneath the table. He gave a bow of respect to all of the agents in the room before he sat.

The room was silent, save for the crinkling of papers. Kiku glanced expectantly towards the German. Ludwig gave a silent sigh and turned his attention back to the agents. "That means get to work!" he commanded. As if a gunshot had just rang out, all of the men stood and began scattering off. The sounds of chatter and bare (or in some cases, slippered) footsteps erupted, echoing through the halls.

HOLLOW EYES

"_What do you think is out there, brother_?"

Lovino's eyes shifted from his clothes to his brother sitting on at the end of the other bed, his gaze staring out the window to the view of a small garden. Unlike the other rooms, this one was clearly something meant for the both of them. Two twin-sized beds, one closer to the door and the other closer to the window, had been situated only a nightstand apart. Feliciano had taken the bed closest to the window as soon as he had stepped inside the room. On the opposite wall sat two dressers, both so far untouched, though they were sure not to remain that way. Between them was a door leading to what they knew was the bathroom, with two elegant sinks embedded into the marble countertops.

A moment of silence filled the room as the older Vargas brother straightened. He gave a frown and retrieved a jacket from his suitcase. He tossed it down on top of the pile of clothes next to the container. "_Hell if I know. For all we know, it could be a siren_," he replied. The Italian language rolled off his tongue without any hesitation or hindrance.

Feliciano laughed. His gaze remained at the window. "_I doubt it's a siren_."

Lovino gave a shrug. "_It could be. Nobody knows what it looks like_." Bare feet plodded across the wooden floorboards, taking him to the bathroom door. As he grasped the doorknob, he spoke again, "_I'm showering._" He cast a glare towards his brother, who now looked towards him. "_And don't think about following me this time_!" He stepped through the door and closed it behind him before the younger one even had a chance to respond. With a flick of the wrist, the door was locked. Best to keep the brother out, or else his words would have been useless. He took a towel out from the large cabinet situated against the wall, hanging it on the rack next to the shower-tub.

In only a few moments, his clothes were discarded to the floor and he leaned into the tub resting before a window, currently covered by white curtains matching the ones found in the bedroom. He turned on the water and, with his hand dipped into the running stream, waited for the warmth to flow over his fingers. After a few seconds, it did. He pulled the plug above the faucet and a shower of water rained down from above. Stepping inside, he closed the shower curtains. The drops of water ran down his bare skin as he stood there in the downpour, each one feeling like small, warm kisses. It soaked his hair and ran over his skin. His mind melted away just as the oils from yesterday did. This was one of the only times he felt at peace, when there were no worries to think of. He could be anything he wanted to be, so long as he knew he was alone. He didn't have to worry over his brother, worry over missions, or even worry whether or not that Spanish agent would annoy the living hell out of him. When he showered, it was much more than just a shower to clean himself off. It was a place where he could relax and let go. He never paid attention to how long he stayed in the water, whether it was a bath or a shower. Usually by the time he got out, his fingers had shriveled and his vision would be hindered by steam. He never worried about how much the water bill would rise. He had more than enough money to spare on things such as bills. He was paid quite well with his job, and his side job brought in more money than you would expect.

He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. All worries had long since vanished, leaving no traces behind. He focused only on the rising heat of the room and the water flowing down his body, starting at his hair and ending at his toes. He lifted his hand and let his fingers fall limp. From their tips, small water droplets fell to the porcelain below. A small smile crept onto his lips, something in which most would never see in their whole lifetime. Yes... Showers certainly did relax him more than anything else.

His eyes slid closed as his hand fell to his side. His head tilted back. The droplets now splattered across his forehead, trailing down the contours of his face. They ran down his cheeks, a few of them falling from his chin and jaw as other drops descended down his neck. He cared not for the water that ran close to his eyelids; just the feeling it brought him. For a moment, he could completely let go. The porcelain and cast iron tub below that seemed to break away from below him. The world around him faded to nothing. Only the feeling of the water hitting his skin and the sound of drops raining all around him filled his world. He felt as though he were floating in an abyss, full of pure bliss and an unusual sense of calmness - especially for one of his nature.

A sudden, but very quiet, bang interrupted his moment of peace. The smile - which had been growing wider - faded instantly. His eyelids snapped open. Anger and annoyance took place of tranquility. Out of the corner of his eye, towards the door, he could see a dark figure. He was quick to assume that it was his brother, but as soon as he opened his mouth to snap and focused his gaze where the shadow had been, he realized there was nothing. Puzzled, he stared at the door, his lips parted only slightly. The door showed no signs of being opened, but the mist swayed around the area as though someone had just passed through, as if they had entered and quickly left. The lock stood vertical, indicating that the door was still locked.

He stood there, silent. He could have sworn that he saw someone standing there. "Feliciano?" he called out, his voice echoing against the white walls and tiles of the room. No answer. He tried again, this time louder, but alas, his call was only met with more silence. Despite the warm air all around him, goosebumps rose on his skin and a shiver ran down his spine. His instincts told him that he had to wrap up this shower as quickly as he could, that this area was not the safest place to be. Acting swiftly, his hand grabbed up the shampoo bottle and poured a generous amount into his palm.

The rest of his shower went by rather quickly. Or at least, as fast as a shower could be when you still had to clean. Upon stepping out, he grabbed the towel off the rack and dried himself off, his eyes carefully glancing around. There was no sign of the shadow. The mist had settled and was only disturbed once more by his own motions. He wrapped the towel around his waist and plodded towards the door, flicking the lock before he pulled it open. "Feliciano?" was the first word to leave his lips as he stepped out into the room. A quick glance around told him that his brother had left, the door closed. His lips turned down into a frown, but he continued on, leaving the bathroom door open for now. He gathered up his clothes for the day; a pair of dull blue boxer-briefs, a pair of dark blue jeans, a black t-shirt with large white and dark gray paint splatters as a design, and a normal dark grey jacket to throw over that. He allowed for the towel to drop from his waist so he could tug on all of the articles of clothing.

He left the room soon after he finished, his fingers combing through his wet locks. It would have to do for now. He had forgotten his own comb and had no idea where his brother had decided to put his - let alone if he had his. As he came to the stairs, the murmurings of chatter filled his ears. He stopped at the wall's end and looked down over the balcony. It seemed as though many of the other agents had already completed their task of getting ready. Many of them wore small backpacks, no doubt full of flashlights, batteries, matches, and other little items they claimed to be necessities. He silently counted off the ones below. Four. Wait, no. Five. He didn't know how he had missed him, but he could have sworn he did not see the blond standing just outside of the group, the one sporting goggles and a small polar bear backpack. For a moment, even the man's name slipped his mind, but it soon came to him; Matthew Williams, also known as Agent Canada. He was a quiet lad, that much Lovino knew.

A sigh came through his nose. There were two people missing; Francis and Feliciano. Lovino turned away from the balcony, facing the doors of the hallway. His gaze flicked to each room. Which one had Francis said was his...? Mentally, Lovino found himself counting again, and adding on who lived in each room. The first room, at the end of the left hallway, had been taken by Alfred. He had claimed that he was number one and therefore should have the first room. The second room was occupied by Matthew. He hadn't insisted it. Rather, Alfred had in order to keep him and Arthur apart, whom took up residence in room three. There was an empty room, then the room where both he and his brother stayed; room five. Feliciano wanted this room so it wouldn't be so long of a walk to the stairs. The doors then stopped until the other side of the balcony, hidden from the view of the front door. This was the room occupied by Ludwig, who claimed it was a great way to check the front door if something ever came in that way - and to get to the rest of the house. Next to him, Japan had taken the seventh room. That left three more rooms that could possibly be Francis's, the three at the very end of the hallway.

He followed the wall down to the eighth door. He tried the door. It opened easily, but inside, there was no sign of anyone taking up residence there. He closed the door once more and continued to the next one. He tried this one instead. It opened with little difficulty. He was rewarded with the sight of Francis sitting on a red chair with a book in his hands, his hair pulled back into a low ponytail. There was no sign of his brother.

The Frenchman, however, glanced up at the new arrival and smiled. "Why, _bonjour_, Lovino. What brings you here?" he questioned. The book was placed down on the tabletop just as the short-tempered Italian man waltzed into the room, a frown etched into the features of his face.

"Don't get smart with me. I'm not looking for you. I'm looking for Feliciano," he spoke. His tone was even, but his shoulders were tense. His eyes warily watched the Frenchman. They dared not to leave him. He had no trust for this flirtatious pervert, not even the slightest ounce. But that was a story for another time.

Blue eyes shifted to the other door leading out of the room. A small sliver of light filtered through the bottom. Before he could even speak, the light suddenly vanished and the door swung open to reveal the other Italian, his brown hair - save for the ever-bouncy curl - clinging to his cheeks. One hand rested on the doorknob while the other cradled a small bundle of clothing, no doubt the pajamas he was forced into this morning before walking out. Surprise sparked within his eyes as they landed upon his brother. Then a wide grin spread across his lips. "_Fratello_! I didn't think you would be out yet! You always take so very long in the shower," he commented as he pushed the door closed behind him. He turned his attention to the Frenchman and gave a small _'grazie'_, which was returned by a nod of the head.

He turned his gaze back to his brother as Lovino sidestepped out of the way of the door. "Well, hurry up! We still have to get ready, _idiota_!" the older Italian brother shouted in false anger. It was shrugged off by a small laugh from the younger one, who complied to his brother's wishes by being the first to walk out the door, his bare feet lightly tapping against the wood. A sharp gaze settled on the Frenchman, returned with a raised eyebrow. A moment of silence passed between the two. The whole room was still with it. "Tch." The door slammed closed.

HOLLOW EYES

With how silent the city had become, it was hard to even believe that people used to roam the streets. It was hard to imagine how many people truly had lived here. The swings of the playgrounds only swayed when pushed by the wind. The various cars remained at the sides of the roads, covered in a fine layer of dust. Vines had begun to creep up onto the sidewalks, the lawns untrimmed. Some doors remained wide open, others bolted shut. A place seeming so up-to-date in technology and renovations was completely abandoned with no traces of life. Not even a stray dog or cat could be seen roaming the streets of this sealed-off world.

It gave him goosebumps.

Arthur's eyes were constantly surveying the area. Despite the chill of the breeze, he could feel sweat trickling down the curves of his face. He had been on many missions where places were abandoned. He could hardly count how many times he had been sent somewhere closed off. But never like this. He had never encountered a place with no life forms. The other cities at least had a stray dog or two running around. Hell, he even had to fend off a starving dog who had been driven mad by hunger, just on his last mission. He had shot the dog right between the eyes with a small handgun Alfred had given to him that very morning.

At least there were still birds in the area. He had seen no squirrels, but he could see the evidence left on the sidewalks crossing underneath trees, could hear the sing-song chirps from above. It made everything seem a little less deserted, a little less tense. The air was clean as well. This morning, there had been the faint scent of dew, but now, he could only smell grass as he sat here in the dog park, his eyes surveying the landscape. His nostrils flared as he took in the sweet aroma. His spine arched back as to rest on the wooden bench, one leg crossed over the other. His arms lifted to both sides and hung themselves across the back, his fingers curling. The gentle breeze ruffled his blond hair and green jacket, dancing across his skin. It chilled him, but it felt nice at the same time. He had been running around all day, investigating any area he possibly could. His feet had begun to grow sore due to all the walking, the sun now slowly sinking in the blue sky.

Only a few minutes ago, he had asked Ludwig if he could just rest for a while and allow his lungs to fill with oxygen once more. He wasn't quite used to this height. It had been a while since he had to travel up this high in the mountains. The air was considerably thinner compared to that at ocean level, where his previous mission with Alfred had been. Ludwig had given a nod of his head and wandered off on his own, though he mentioned that he wouldn't be too far. In fact, if Arthur were to use the binoculars in his bag, he would be able to easily spot where the German had went. He was startled out of his thoughts as soon as he heard his radio begin a transmission, beginning with a slight static noise.

"Agent England. Come in. Over."

He frowned. This wasn't right. Ludwig had told him he wouldn't contact the British man unless there was something wrong, something out of the ordinary. He reached to the bag laying beside him and pulled the radio off the side of it. It wasn't a very large thing at all, just a normal walkie-talkie like device used to short-ranged communication between two individuals. He held the button on the side and put the microphone to his lips. "Agent England speaking. What's the problem? Over."

"I think you should come and see for yourself. Over."

Something had to be wrong. A sense of dread and anxiety welled up within his gut. Gathering his pack's strap in one hand, he stood and slung the strap over his shoulder. He pushed in the button once more. "What is your location? Over."

"228 Miller St. Over."

Miller Street... That was the street beyond the park, straight ahead. He hardly had the time to memorize the map, but at least he knew the key locations. Miller Street was quite a large one with a two-lane painted road. It ran about three times the length of the dog park alone and was thus separated into three sections, as far as Arthur could tell. He let out a silent sigh and gave his reply, "Roger. Out." Reaching back, he slid the radio back inside his pack and slung the other strap over his unused shoulder. His feet carried him forward, through the overgrown gross. It brushed against his leather boots, the tallest blades nearly reaching half-calf, almost touching the jeans tucked within his shoes. His eyes searched carefully for any hidden holes within the tall blades, sidestepping them whenever he came across one. In only a few moments, his slight-heeled boots tapped against rough concrete and a second after that, dark asphalt. Out of habit, his eyes glanced to both sides, as if searching for any oncoming cars. But of course, there were none to be seen. He continued on his way, walking once more through tall grass, this time located between buildings. He only stopped upon coming to the sidewalk of Miller Street, just after the grass. His eyes glanced both ways, taking in the numbers on the opposite side of the street. 220... 222... 224... 226... There. He pushed onward. The steady _thunk thunk_ of his boots echoed up and down the deserted street. It was the only sound that came to his ears. He heard not even the wind through the trees, nor the song of the birds. It raised goosebumps on his skin.

The steady rhythm ended at the sidewalk built in front of house number 228.

The front door hung only on one hinge, threatening to break free. Tattered curtains scarcely hid what lie beyond shattered windows. Bits of glass sparkled in the dead, wilting grass. The tire swing hung on only one rope from a decaying tree with one large limb fallen, resting now on ruble between two pieces of broken wall. Deep gouges scuffed up the dirtied wooden patio, quietly creaking under the weight of a sole rocking chair. Inside the house was dark, despite the sun's bright rays. In the back of his mind, he heard a voice screaming at him. It told him to not enter, under any circumstance. He took in a deep, slow breath through his nose and, just as slowly, let it out. He seeked out the familiar feel of his power, reached deep within himself. He took ahold of it and let it lurch forward into clear view. Standing completely still with eyes unmoving, he searched the two-story house. He searched every room or every floor. He searched the backyard. The sensation that washed over him was a feeling of security. The house was uninhabited. There was nothing alive within. He loosened his grip, allowing for the magic to fade. But he kept a loose hold on it, keeping it ready for whenever he may need it. The voice had silenced itself. Even it was reassured. Then he felt the slightest prickle of tension as the hair on the back of his neck raised. He sensed a lifeform. Not in the house itself, but rather, somewhere else.

Behind him.

A hand grasped firmly at his shoulder, causing him to jolt. His eyes wide, he turned his gaze to the attacker. The magic was brought forth and now danced along his fingertips in the form of electricity. He had been a fool to let down his guard that much. Even if he was surveying the house for lifeforms, that gave him absolutely no reason to just leave himself vulnerable for attack. He should have kept a slight mist around himself as well, the same mist he had allowed to settle around him when he loosened his hold on his magic.

Green eyes met with stunned blue. The hand quickly removed itself as the one it belonged to stumbled back in surprise. Both hands shot up in defense, their palms facing the magic user. "Calm down! It's just me!" Ludwig spoke quickly. He was usually not one to be startled or frightened. But this was another case. He and Arthur both knew what the British man's powers could do. He could deflect bullets, he could rip men in half, he could decapitate a stone giant, he could even summon tornados and hurricanes. He was not a force to be reckoned with in the least. Thankfully, Ludwig's presence had been noticed and the blue sparks faded from view. The hands, which had previously been ready to command lightning towards a foe, lowered.

Arthur managed to pull a nervous smile on his lips. "Sorry. I didn't realize you were there, old chap," he apologized with a small laugh. Though his magic had now faded from view, he still kept a loose grasp on it.

Ludwig's muscles relaxed. His own hands lowered. "It's alright. Try to be a little more careful, _ja_? I don't want to become a target." After a nod was given in return, he turned his attention back to the house before them, just as Arthur did. "I haven't explored this place yet. I thought that you should have a look at it first. Did you sweep the area for life forms?"

"Yes, I did. There's nothing alive in there. Not even a mouse."

"_Gut_. Then I think we should sweep this house, from top to bottom. If this is a nest, then we can report it back to Agent Japan. We will stay on the same floor as the other and if there are any threats, we will leave," he spoke. His voice rang of authority. This was not just a suggestion; it was an order. While Arthur seemed not to quite agree with the plan, he still gave a small nod of approval. There was no harm in at least checking it out, he silently told himself.

Arthur followed the larger German up the overgrown pathway and towards the wooden steps. They creaked and bowed under the weight of the two men, but did not give way. The vibrations of their footsteps caused the rocking chair to lightly sway. The door frame groaned in protest as the hanging door was pushed aside. The wooden floorboards inside were covered in a layer of dust and dirt with shriveled leaves dotting the area. The lights were all out, leaving the room in a dark light coming only from the door. The hallway was small with a stairway on the right side, beyond an archway placed opposite of another curving archway. The left archway lead to a dining room; the right one lead to what appeared to be the living room. Ludwig motioned to the living room as he drew his gun from its holster; a signal for Arthur to go there. Arthur obliged and as Ludwig quietly strode to the dining room, Arthur went in the opposite direction.

All the pieces of furniture were hidden by white sheets. From what he could gather, there were two couches; a loveseat and a three-seater. The loveseat had been shoved up against the opposite window and the larger couch stood at a crooked angle to an overturned coffee table. It seemed that at one point, it was parallel with the TV stand. A fireplace rested in the corner nearest the loveseat. Against the wall left of the larger couch, as Arthur soon realized the more he stepped into the dusty room, was a small bookshelf. On top of it rested quite a few silver picture frames. In all, it seemed that there were ten. A decorative silver cross hung slanted on the wall above it. His footsteps nearly silent, he strode up to the bookshelf. Through the dust, he could see the pictures concealed within. The family that had lived here seemed to be a rather loving one consisting of a mother, a father, and two sons, both seeming to be under the age of 12. Arthur hummed as he furrowed his eyebrows. Under his breath, he murmured the question that came to his mind, "Why would someone leave these pictures here if they seem to love their children this much...?" The answer escaped him completely. These pictures seemed to be not even a year old, taken with a high-quality camera and printed on expensive paper. A frown etched into his lips.

He turned his gaze away from the pictures and allowed for his magic to search through the house once more. He only felt the presence of Ludwig in the dining room, travelling on towards what he assumed to be the kitchen. He continued on towards the closed door in the back of this room. Opening it only revealed a bathroom. He close the door. Taking one last glance at the pictures that bothered him so, he turned and exited the living room. And just in time, it seemed, as Ludwig had also just finished up searching his own areas and was entering the hallway. "Upstairs?" Arthur questioned. Ludwig nodded. Arthur stepped out of the way to allow for the other to pass, letting him lead once again. The stairs ended at a small platform that curved around to open up into another hallway, this one smaller. Three doors, all opened, lead to what he assumed to be three different rooms. Without a single word, the German continued on his own way, skipping the first two doors and instead heading to the one at the end of the hall; most likely the parents' room.

Arthur, on the other hand, went to the one closest to him. It seemed to be the room belonging to the youngest one. He could only assume this because of the toys littered across the floorboards and the small bed decorated with a certain cartoon character-themed sheets. He smiled lightly. This was the room of a child loved by his parents. Many of the toys seemed to be in good condition, though dusty from not being used in recent times. The bed seemed as though it were quite comfortable with a nightstand placed beside it.

A sudden wave of dread and panic surged through him. His smile instantly faded. Something was behind him. It was not Ludwig, for he could still feel his presence in the other room. No. This was something he had never felt before. Something much larger, much more sinister. The voice previously in the back of his mind was now taking over his thoughts, screaming at him so loud it seemed as though it would cause his eardrums to ring if it were outside of his own head. He called forth the magic and spun around in the same instant. He came eye-to-eye with the beast. Black orbs stared right back. Tight lips pulled back to reveal sharp teeth. Arthur found himself standing frozen in front of the large creature towering over him. It raised one lanky arm, its claws sharp and dyed dark red. In only a split second, he could feel the claws rake at his side and push him hurtling towards the solid wall. A loud crash resounded through his ears. But it was not the crash that filled his head as his vision went black. It was the voice that penetrated his mind, as if it were his own thought.

_You break so easily._


End file.
